the bukit lawang conspiracy

what about the quiet life?
no chance in this kurtz melodrama
sweat, flies, banal questions
that bloat the temper
and grate the edges –
but the bridges are good
foot bridges
swinging dangerously at midnight,
and poor gentle norbert , stoned
afraid to cross,
a few hot dinners away
from dope saturation,
everyone’s a jungle man
except norbert
and his inexpensive bride
the feline fraudster, ria
‘I like big dicky’ she told me
over potato curry
I laughed nervously
asked her for the salt
she stared straight through me
spindly feelers navigating their way
into my partially full truth box
quiet life?
I started going grey when I was nineteen

Callum Scott